


if we are together (it feels like summer)

by suninthesky



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Character Study, Cuddling, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Javi is a coach, Kissing, M/M, Shaving, Soft Banter, Yuzuru isn't very helpful, a lot of thinking, fake deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suninthesky/pseuds/suninthesky
Summary: I will always support you, Yuzuru says.I will respect you forever, Javi answers from the other end of the world.





	if we are together (it feels like summer)

**Author's Note:**

> hello,  
> it's been almost two years since my last proper work and i,, don't really know why it took me so long to produce something new. 
> 
> a lot has changed in my life and so did for yuzuru and javi i guess. it's been quite a crazy time man,,
> 
> anyway, i'm happy to be back and i hope you'll enjoy this rather softer piece. it's set a couple of years from now but timing isn't really that specific, nor does it really matter.
> 
> hope you'll like it!!

_start._

 

The sky is still bathed in the subdued hues of pinks and violets when Yuzuru opens his eyes. It’s a bit early to be awake at this time on a Sunday morning, especially since he doesn’t have any training practice scheduled in the later hours of the day. But the sun-still not fully up there yet _—_ is shining so brightly already, makes all parts of his exposed skin shiver with pleasant warmth, bursts of tingles spreading to the nerve endings just a bit underneath. The forecast said today’s day might be especially hot, Yuzuru recalls somewhere from the depths of his dreadfully sleepy brain. 

 

At least the Canadian summers are nothing like the blazing heat of mid-august Sendai with buckets of sweat running down his back, the ferocious torridity painting his full cheeks in a deep shade of red. The days back at home seemed to feel longer too. Running in between the blooming trees _—_ backpack hitting violently against his shoulders as he sprinted past the crosswalks _—_ always late for the afternoon practice. And then, walking down the beach with a few friends from the rink right after the last cool down strokes have been finished and their skates have securely been placed in their respective lockers.

 

Yuzuru never questioned the surroundings of those days, never stopped to think how the sand underneath his toes could one day disappear and get carried along with the liters of sea water that never belonged that far down the land.

 

A few years later, on the very similar, hot summer day Yuzuru realizes, that he’s been living on the borrowed time ever since the first time his lungs were filled with air.

 

But the never-ending days of summer shows and kind skaters have put back together the broken pieces and wounded shells of his heavily damaged silhouette and it was a warm day of July in some stuffy village bar with the show crew that made him feel that for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t run out of light.

 

Somewhere along the way his eyes have stumbled upon the pair of kind, amber pools that made Sendai heats feel like regular summers.

 

And the rest was history.

 

Even after all these years, waking up next to a peacefully sleeping Javier with messy hair and often a bit of drool leaking down his cheek has felt like a dream, but in this case the reality was much, much better.

 

The clock on his right ticks 6:32 am. So _early._

“Yuzu,”

 

“Mhm?”

 

“Stop squirming so much.”

 

A pout.

 

“It’s too early in the morning to be thinking so much. It’s hot. Heat’s bad for the brain.”

 

Yuzuru sighs and moves closer to the scalding hot figure tangled in between the white sheets, the latter’s skin almost golden against the pale fabric. In the dim lightning of their half pulled up curtains he can make out the map of freckles dusting the planes of Javi’s tanned back. A few constellations with supernovas here and there, the lean muscles straining underneath the smooth surface with each deep breath. He reaches out his hand and traces the few moles with the pad of his fingertip.

 

“Yuzu,” the latter groans softly. “It tickles.”

 

“Javi has a workshop today,” Yuzuru starts as he moves his hand a tad bit higher, up each bone of his spine, and ultimately decides to rest it at Javi’s nape, strokes the short curls there with adoration.

 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t start till like the afternoon,” the other boy shuffles a bit so that he’s facing Yuzuru with this soft, _soft_ look in his eyes. Glimmering, twinkling. He fights so hard to keep his eyes open, long eyelashes fluttering with each heartbeat.

 

Yuzuru forgets how to breathe for a second.

 

“We have time.” Javi says in a whisper. _We do_ , Yuzuru thinks.

 

Daily image training of some sort.

 

He wants Javi to believe in them too.

 

His heart remembers their first shared practice all the way back in 2011 when they were just a bunch of rising up kids, back when his tongue would curl around the r’s in the latter’s name and how the other boy would struggle with the z’s in his for an instance. And the first time Javi took his hand in his after a botched up quad Salchow attempt.

 

Their first podium as training mates and the first time Javi flashed him that warm smile of his.

 

The very first time when the top of the world was almost in their reach _—_ and the very first time Javi kissed him at the backstage of the Saitama worlds medal ceremony.

 

Yuzuru was glowing back then; there was this saccharine sweet elation at the tip of his tongue as they went to the lockers after the never-ending press conference and then the temperate buzz inside of his veins as the latter pressed his back into the cold, hard wall of the one of the empty shower stalls; taking all of the remnants of air from his fragile lungs and then breathing it in right after.

 

There’s also the time when they decided that they’re better off training separately. The burning reminder of his failure beaming brightly at the back of his head. And Yuzuru’s never been the one to quit first anyway.

 

 _It’s kind of always been like that_ , Yuzuru thinks. Him running hastily to the very top not even bothering to look past over his shoulder and then Javi following right after him, with a little bit less fervor. It was the first time that he’s brought himself to admit in front of the only person he’s ever truly wanted to win beside himself, how utterly selfish he tended to be.

 

And then, there was the first time Javi’s taken him home; laid him bare on his bed and treasured each part of Yuzuru’s faulty self with utmost diligence. It was the first time Yuzuru’s let himself to be vulnerable, and in a way, he’d felt like he’s never belonged anywhere more than on that Friday night encircled by Javi’s arms.

 

Very soon Javi’s tiny apartment became their _home_ ; a point on the map in between Spain and Japan and their hustling skating life. An anchor and a place he could always come back to, had he lost his way in the process yet again.

 

“Javi?” Yuzuru purses his lip, keeps stroking his fingers through the latter’s dark curls.

 

The other boy opens his eyes again, looks at Yuzuru like he’s the only constant, the only sure thing in this universe.

 

“Yes, my love?” It’s been years, yet it’s reassuring to know, to reassess the consent. 

 

One look at the other boy is enough and Javi’s lifting the sheets a bit, inviting Yuzuru into his sleep-warm space.

 

They fit like a box of puzzles with a few pieces missing, years of pull taking its toll on their bodies in more than singular ways and somehow, they’ve always made it work in the end. One of Yuzuru’s thighs wrapped lightly around the other’s hips, Javi’s hands on his back, stroking slowly across its surface. Frankly, it’s a bit uncomfortable but being able to hear Javi’s steady breathing soon enough lulls him back to sleep in no time.

 

* * *

 

The sun is high up in the sky the second time Yuzuru wakes up. The clock on his right shows 10:02 am instead. He reaches out his hand, but the unkempt side of the bed is devastatingly empty, the shadows mingling in all different kinds of shapes.

 

There’s also a distinctive aroma of freshly made coffee hitting his nose right away.

 

He’s never been a huge fan of that bitter, bean watery drink, but Javi’s always added extra cream and a dollop of caramel syrup to Yuzuru’s version and he’s grown to appreciate that extra tangy taste on the tip of his tongue _—_ still a much better alternative to the other’s pitch-black coffee straight from the darkest pits of hell.

 

The cheap air conditioner is blasting on at the full force, but it does a poor job on providing his skin the much-needed cool embrace. He forgoes the pants and decides to throw one of Javi’s older t-shirts over his head, the hem of it ending just a centimeter below the edge of his shorts. It’ll end up sticking to his back like a huge heating pad anyway.

 

Effie acts as a guide on his way to the kitchen, alas she turns out to be quite unhelpful _—_ going in between Yuzuru’s legs with enthusiastic purrs. It’s only when she manages to almost make him trip over a chair, does the other boy notice Yuzuru’s presence.

 

Each day Yuzuru wants to burn that picture into the back of his eyelids; Javi standing by the kitchen counter in light shorts only, his dark curls sticking out in all directions, a pair of thick glasses on top of his nose.

 

It almost feels _painful_ in its simplicity, that scene and the fact that Javi really is standing over there, easy to reach out to and he’s not going anywhere any time soon. It feels _domestic_ and Yuzuru can feel the sappy side of him waking up from the long-time slumber.

 

He fears that if he turns his head away for a second Javi won’t be there anymore a couple of heartbeats later. But the other boy stays so stubbornly real as Yuzuru takes a few steps forwards and wraps his arms over his stomach _—_ the heat radiating from his sun kissed skin seeping into Yuzuru’s sweaty palms, the honey yellow timbre setting his nerve endings on fire _—_ so rigidly palpable as he places a chaste kiss on Javi’s stubble covered cheek.

 

“Good morning to you too,” Javi murmurs and puts away a slice of bread. “Did you have a good sleep?”

 

“The best,” Yuzuru lifts his hips a bit and settles himself on the kitchen counter. He takes a freshly cut slice and munches on it with joy. “I always sleep well with Javi by my side.”

 

“Oh my god, you’re so cheesy.”

 

“I’m not,” Yuzuru pouts as he keeps chewing on his stolen toast. It makes the latter light up with a chuckle.

 

“You are! But I don’t really mind, you know that.”

 

Yuzuru huffs as the blush spreads across his cheeks to the very tops of his ears.

 

“You’re terrible.”

 

“But you love me anyway?” The other boy says with this slight hint of shyness in his eyes. Yuzuru loves that about him, about their relationship. How each day feels like learning a new figure _—_ unsure, yet exciting. And he can’t stop himself from wanting to study all there is to know about Javi.

 

There’s the way how the other boy manages to make his aura seem so big and fill the whole room with the Spanish sunrays almost as soon as he steps inside, despite being of very similar narrow build like Yuzuru himself.

 

Or how his lean muscles twitch delicately under his skin like the gentle ripple of sea waves when they train off ice at the cricket club gym. Well, most of them do, Yuzuru only does in theory since he’s too busy admiring the other’s Greek-god-like build from the opposite side of the room. He’s probably not the only one to feel guilty about that particular thing but being the solely only person to be able to pull the latter to the side as they head to the showers feels extremely triumphant.

 

“I think I’m done with the breakfast,” Javi places a warm cup of coffee into Yuzuru’s hands and places a paper-weight kiss on his forehead, then both of his eyelids, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and just as Yuzuru begins to feel his whole body shudder there’s a pair of soft lips right on top of his own ones. They kiss lazily for what seems like the eternity, but he doesn’t want the other boy to stop.

 

Yuzuru likes to think that they have more than forever and an additional day.

 

* * *

 

Their shared noon feels just like that too, Yuzuru busying himself with the placidity of integrals and Javi circulating left and right, rehearsing his “coach” remarks.

 

“Should I sound a bit scary?” Javi says as Effie lays herself down right in front of him in demand of pets. “Or maybe I should sound confident, you know? To assert my dominance.”

 

“Javi, you teaching twelve year olds not cryminals.” Yuzuru laughs as he picks a green pen and highlights a couple of words. “Besides, you did coaching camps a few years ago in Spain, right?”

 

“But I did them together with Brian and Tracy,” the latter scratches his neck as he tries to formulate his worries. “This time though, I’ll be their only teacher and I don’t want to fail, I don’t want to teach them wrong technique or something.”

 

Yuzuru closes his notebook, pretty sure he won’t get far with his math homework anyways.

 

“How,” Yuzuru starts slowly as he meets his gaze with the other boy’s unsure one. A worried Javi is too big of a contrast to his usual bubbly self, he even seems to look smaller in the tiny living room of his apartment, _their apartment_ , Yuzuru corrects himself.

 

“How could Javi teach bad technique? I learn quad sal from Javi and it’s the most beautiful jump. I moved to Canada for that jump, Javi.

 

The latter sighs softly. “But Yuzu, I’m pretty sure that you know how gifted of skater you were, even before you moved here. I didn’t teach you the basics.”

 

Yuzuru stands up and moves himself closer to Javi, takes his hand into his own and strokes the protruding veins with the pad of his thumb. He fixes his gaze on the static movement and breathes out.

 

“Javi’s right. But I was good because I worked so much every day. I jumped and I fell and then I got injuries and bad ankles. Maybe Javi didn’t teach me how to do stroking or crossovers or steps, but,”

 

 _But you taught me so much more,_ Yuzuru thinks. He wouldn’t be the skater that he is now without the kind Spanish skater who once shared a podium with him in the cold, niveous Russia. Hell, he wouldn’t be the person that he is now.

 

“Javi taught me that it’s not bad to take a break sometimes. That training is not everything, especially if you go into it with bad brain. Javi taught me patience.”

 

_And love, and pain; that it’s alright to cheer for somebody else to win, that hugs are his most favorite thing in the world and how sometimes timing is a malicious little thing._

“Thank you Yuzuru,” the other boy practically whispers into the side of his neck, broad palms stroking over the expanse of Yuzuru’s back. “I’ll do my best.”

 

“Of course, you will!” He hoards all of the warmth and sunshine from the past few days into his smile until it reaches his eyes, and Javi.

 

Javi is smiling too.

 

“But first Javi have to shave! You look like a caveman!”

 

“Yeah?” The latter grins as he buries his nose into the other’s clavicle. “I thought that you liked that look on me, huh? What happened to _—_ _Oh, Javi you look so manly with your bea-”_

“Javi so bad!” Yuzuru gives him a halfhearted push. “You be a terrible coach!”

 

“A terrible coach that’s in love with you-”

 

“Ugh, you so lame.” Yuzuru groans with fake exasperation.

 

Javi gives him a quick, theatrical smooch and makes his way to the bathroom, hanging by the door expectantly.

 

Yuzuru sighs. This man right here, the love of his life, will be the death of him quite soon.

 

“Weren’t you going to ask me something, hm?” Yuzuru swears he’s as close to throwing his textbooks at the latter’s stupid grin as he’s to jumping a sequence of ten triple axels. Which is quite close.

 

“Stupid Javi, laughing at my baby face hair.” He utters as he stomps his way to the bathroom.

 

“Yeah?” The other boy smiles at him with this stupid grin of his and all Yuzuru wants to do is to kiss it off of his face.

 

“Very stupid.” Yuzuru closes their distance in a quick step and grabs Javi by the fabric of his t-shirt.

 

And as always, they meet at the midpoint. Javi kissing his lower lip with all the gentleness in the world, paper light, _teasing._ Yuzuru kisses back with a little bit more clumsiness and fire, the growing riptide flushing his veins with want. He buries the tips of his fingers in the short hairs at the base of the other boy’s neck, pulling softly, shutting out all the little noises at the back of Javi’s throat.

 

Javi pulls back for a second, his lips ruddy and shiny with spit. Yuzuru shuts his eyes involuntarily as the latter bring his palm up higher to rest it on his cheek at last, strokes the tiny hair there. He gives in to the electricity of this touch. It feels a bit different and a lot more intimate too.

 

When Yuzuru forces his eyes open he’s met with the deep longing in Javi’s eyes, and something else too, hidden way past beneath. It’s in those moments when they stop chasing each other, when they stop running and slow down to take breath, when Javi looks at him as if he was something delicate and breakable, _the whole cosmos and the stars combined._

 

Yuzuru breaks the space between them on his own this time, leaving a kiss on the other boy’s forehead. He’s lost the count of time, or any of their surroundings for that matter, but Javi’s still religiously stroking his cheek and Yuzuru doesn’t want him to stop, like ever.

 

“Do you want to shave me?” Javi asks, all soft around the edges.

 

“Yeah,” Yuzuru nods his head resolutely. “I want to.”

 

They’ve come to an agreement a couple of years ago, just as they’d started dating, when every touch was new, and each little detail would get written down in their respective brains. It actually happened on some nameless Sunday night in a dark hotel room. They’d had to leave for a plane in about an hour or so and well, Javi was looking closer to a hermit than the figure skating world champion.

 

Yuzuru’d insisted that the latter would give himself a shave. He also couldn’t take his eyes off of him once his face was covered in the white shaving cream.

 

The thing is, Yuzuru had never been particularly self-conscious about his appearance. He’s grown to like his lanky frame, so ideal and useful for the sport he’s dedicated his life to, his rather shorter build of the average height set and even his sometimes high-pitched voice.

 

But he’s always wanted what he couldn’t have, always been fascinated by the bulkiness of the muscled arms of pairs skaters, or how their strong backs would strain with each movement underneath the steaming shower stalls.

 

Or how after a couple days Javi’s jaw would get dusted with fine, pointy hair.

 

Well, Yuzuru couldn’t tell the same about his nearly hairless body. He could try to grow a moustache of a very poor kind, but it would look nothing better than a goatee of a middle-school student.

 

And maybe it was because his brain had short circulated as the latter had also taken off his shirt _—_ in order not to ruin it, Yuzuru kept convincing himself _—_ but a question was coming out of his mouth before he could properly process the meaning of it all.

 

“Can you let me shave you?”

 

The latter had blushed at that time, from the tip of his nose right to the collarbones, but he had agreed without any protest.

 

And if Yuzuru’s always precise hand had shaken more than usually, Javi had kept all of his comments to himself. He’d guided Yuzuru with the quiet directions of when to press harder with the cheap disposable razor, had taken his wrist into his own and mimicked the strokes. Yuzuru had felt grateful in a way. This was just a simple everyday task, but in a way, it’d felt like reaching a new level of some kind.

 

After a couple of years Yuzuru’s come to master that chore too. His hands had learned a map of all the curves and hills of Javi’s face and right now he could navigate through them practically with his eyes closed.

 

The no shirt rule had stayed too, much to Yuzuru’s torture. It’s not like it was distracting to a point that he couldn't focus on the given task, no. But it was, well, helpful yet _unhelpful_.

 

“You want me to shave all?” He asks softly.

 

“Yeah, I pretty much had that in mind. I want to make a good first impression. A proper coach, you know?” Javi laughs.

 

“Yeah, Brian never has a beard and he’s a good coach.” Yuzuru teases as he sprays a lump of shaving cream onto his palm.

 

“Yes, I’m sure that there’s some pretty important correlation here.”

 

“Tracy also don’t have-”

 

“Can you start without making fun of me,”

 

“Okay,” Yuzuru forces his giggling fit to an end and pats the edge of their bathtub. “Come sit here?”

 

He starts by dutifully covering the expanse of the latter’s face with the palm of his hand, smooths out the creamy surface once he’s done.

 

“I’m really glad you’re doing this,” Javi mumbles as Yuzuru steadies his jaw in place. “I trust you.”

 

Yuzuru’s pretty sure his heart’s just jumped a triple axel.

 

For the most part it goes smoothly, Javi almost dozing off to the static sound of Yuzuru’s gentle humming. It’s a nameless melody his mother used to sing to him when he had troubles with falling asleep after a particularly harsh asthma attack. It had stuck to him along the way.

 

“Yuzu?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Why don’t skate to that melody one day? It’s really pretty and it would suit your style of skating, I think.”

 

“I don’t know name, asked mom but she doesn’t know too.”

 

“Ah, I see. It would make a beautiful exhibition though. Maybe for a final skate?”

 

 _Right,_ Yuzuru thinks. _One day I’ll join you there, and I won’t climb on top of the podiums anymore. But it’s also so far away for now. I just want to enjoy the presence._

“Maybe, but I not thinking about it now.”

 

“I know you aren’t, I get it, don’t worry.” Javi looks at him with this expectant gaze of his, calculating, speaking their dreams right into existence.

 

“But one day, after you’ve won everything there is to win, I want to settle down you know?” Yuzuru chuckles at the prosperity of that, but he stops his movement to listen.

 

“I’m serious! I want to be a coach with you!”

 

Somehow, Yuzuru can imagine, not that far down the road, a teary-eyed Brian and Tracy giving them the Cricket Club keys; holding stroking classes each morning and saying good night to the janitors turning the lights off at the rink each night.

 

“I want to share our experience, you know? I want to contribute to the history of that place, and I want to lead more young Spanish skaters. I want to keep helping the smaller federations. And I want to keep sharing my life with you,” Yuzuru stops his hand on the other’s smooth cheek.

 

The truth is, he’s already thought about that on many summer nights. He’s imagined them together in more than singular ways, yet it always involved skating. And if he can combine the two of the biggest loves of his life into his everyday life, then he won’t really ask for anything more.

 

“Would you like that too?”

 

“Yes,” Yuzuru answers in a heartbeat, “I would really like that as well.”

 

“Javi,”

 

“Yes, my love?”

 

“I think, I accidentally cut you. You’re bleeding.”

 

* * *

 

When Javi’s safe from bleeding to death, they head on to take a subway to get to the Cricket Club. Well actually, since Yuzuru couldn’t find a band aid for his life, they’re running and if they are fast enough, they might be late by just a couple of minutes.

 

“Sorry I got distracted and cut you!” Yuzuru shouts as they sprint down the subway station.

 

“No hard feelings!” Javi yells back as he practically smashes his commute card.

 

By a fraction of an inch _—_ or in that case Yuzuru’s shoelace _—_ they make it in time.

 

And if Brian tries to hide his fond chuckle with a fake grimace, he does a really poor job at it.

 

“He’s tainted you too, Yuzuru?” He fake wails as Tracy approaches them.

 

“He’s done what?” She asks concerned, “Also Javi why are your skates still in a suitcase? Don’t you have a skating class in 5 minutes?”

 

Between a muffled _oh shit_ , and, _I’m such a terrible coach and I haven’t even started yet,_ Yuzuru hears a loud thud which is presumably the locker’s room door closing abruptly.

 

“Can I watch him from the café?”

 

“Of course dear,” Tracy says as he practically slumps onto her in order to hug.

 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s gonna be a great coach, I’m sure of it.” She whispers softly.

 

“You can also ask him out for a late lunch once he’s done,” Brian suggests as he strokes his back. “I’m pretty sure he would really appreciate that.”

 

* * *

 

Watching Javi teach the promising young skaters through the glass wall takes Yuzuru’s heart on a trip. How when he arrived at the Cricket Club all those years ago the one thing he was prepared for was being wary of his potential future training partners because in sports _—_ he’s learned so through the countless years of watching his Russian skating idols compete against each other _—_ there’s no place for such thing as friendship. You don’t go out for a drink with your rival after the finished practice, you don’t cheer for each other during the competitions, you don’t wish for them to win.

 

And you certainly don’t plan on spending the rest of your life with them. Before he could realize it, Yuzuru’s already broken all of the rules.

 

The relationship with his training partner was supposed to be nothing more than a mere formality.

 

That had been a part of the plan too.

 

The only thing Yuzuru’s never really prepared himself for was being pulled into a tight hug by an already late Spanish skater with a cup of coffee in one hand and skate guards in the other. It made his radar go down and all he could do in that moment was to stand awkwardly and try to figure out where he should place his hands.

 

Yet here he was _—_ all these years later _—_ watching the only person he’d gladly make a place on top of the podium for, showing basic steps and turns, making lighthearted jokes to the kids, standing right underneath their Olympic plaques.

 

One day he would like to stand there with Javi too. He could demonstrate some of the jumps while the latter would guide the students through some basic strokes. He can really imagine his life being that way a couple of years down the road.

 

Maybe he should start image training for that too.

 

Javi’s first proper class is finished in no time and Yuzuru hears a subdued whining as he heads to the lockers.

 

“But coach,” some kid whimpers. “Can’t we skate a bit more?”

 

“We’ve been skating for over an hour, kid.” Javi chuckles lightly as he brushes his hair. “You can’t be skating twenty-four hours a day.”

 

“But I have to!” The kid persists. “How am I supposed to win two Olympic gold medals?”

 

Yuzuru heart tingles with warmth at all the memories. Him annoyingly following Saya everywhere, and then, somehow getting himself into skating.

 

The day he watched the 2002 Olympics and swore to himself that he would be standing on top of that podium too, more than once.

 

And despite the thousands of falls, and bruises, and all those injuries, and missed trainings, and all those times he was sure would be the last _—_ his name was up there, and it would get carried along through the people’s worlds for the years to come.

 

It was inevitable that one day he would tie his skates for the very last time and perform to the last remnants of his heart. But he has this certainty, that in the future his, no, _theirs,_ story will continue to live on.

 

The story of Javier Fernandez and Yuzuru Hanyu, who traded their titles like they exchanged the pleasantries about each other to the foreign reporters.

“Listen to your coach,” Yuzuru says politely as he approaches Javi. “He’s really good at that, I can assure you.”

 

“Y-yes,” the kid stutters in an awe.

 

“Also, come a bit earlier one Sunday. I can teach you beautiful jumps so that you win those two Olympic medals one day.” Yuzuru adds in with a wink.

 

“Y-yes, yes! I will!” The boy practically shouts as he rushes to the locker room.

 

Javi smiles fondly at Yuzuru, close to actually beaming. Yuzuru wants him to always be that happy.

 

“Come, we should get some food. I got hungry from watching you do all that teaching.” He stammers in a single breath, shy. Javi takes Yuzuru’s hand into his and squeezes it gently, reassuringly.

 

“You watched my class?”

 

“Of course I did you stupid.” Yuzuru blushes with the force of the thousand suns.

 

Javi smirks. “And what did you think, huh?”

 

“That you so stupid and should buy me lunch today.”

 

“I will, don’t worry.” He laughs softly with his whole narrow frame.

 

“Truthfully, I think that Javi is a very good coach,” Yuzuru starts as they pass the entrance door. “You will only get better in the future and have many Olympic and World medalists.”

 

“We will.” Javi says confidently. “You will help me with all of that, right?”

 

“I will.” Yuzuru promises. It feels quite serious too. He’s not really in the right place to think about such a big commitment so soon, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not willing to try to do so in the future.

 

“So, my love, what would you like to have for lunch today, huh?” The latter teases him with the light pinch to his shoulder.

 

“Javi so cheesy, I have a name too.” Yuzuru fakes a sigh.

 

“Your name is very difficult for my Spanish mouth, so let me call you _the love of my life_.”

 

“Javi!” The other boy pushes him to the side, blushing vigorously. “You’re so very terrible, you give me so much hard time.”

 

“Yeah, I will respect you forever.” Javi says, suddenly a bit more serious and Yuzuru hears  _I love you._

  

"I will always support you," he answers without hesitation. 

 

 

_fin._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!
> 
> any comments are greatly appreciated!!


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